


the next time (it won't stop being over)

by Misila



Series: the one where they're not really over it [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Consensual Sex, I Tried, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut Saturday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7159532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misila/pseuds/Misila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing about <em>this</em> is right; it’s sick and twisted and everything Haruka doesn’t want his relationship with Rin to be.</p><p>But it's the easiest way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the next time (it won't stop being over)

**Author's Note:**

> Even though this work belongs to a series, reading the other fic isn't necessary to understand the story here. I'm just taking advantage of the AO3 features to keep my stories more or less tidy. Anyway, in case anyone is curious, this one is set somewhere in the middle of _Like the waves_.
> 
> (EDIT: I reordered the series so it's less confusing for you.)
> 
> That being said, this story has been written for _Smut Saturday_.

 

 

 

 

There are definitely more strangers than the maximum Haruka can deal with in that room. All of them swimmers from different countries, both men and women, drinking, dancing and yelling at each other to make themselves heard above the deafening, insanely loud music. The lighting isn’t enough to make out much more than dark silhouettes, and the speakers screaming from the corners of the room make it nearly impossible to discern what they’re saying.

Has Haruka mentioned how much he dislikes the clearly unnecessary noise?

He isn’t even sure why he has decided to go to the party organised after the tournament. Socialising isn’t exactly one of his strengths. Neither is English; and he is definitely not good at having fun late at night with a bunch of strangers, no matter how much these people like swimming.

So far, he has scared away three women and one man. Part of him idly wonders what they’ve actually said to him, and he doesn’t know what language he’s replied to their inaudible comments in. It doesn’t matter. They have gotten the point, and now Haruka stands alone with his back pressed to a wall in the least crowded part of the room, hands grabbing his glass of water tightly even though he hasn’t drunk a drop from it yet.

 _Why_ , he wonders for the ninth time, _am I here?_

His eyes scan the room, cursing the bad lighting again, until his gaze lands on the answer.

To be honest, though, Rin hasn’t paid Haruka much attention since he has arrived. He greeted him three days ago, when they saw each other at the training pool after months separated by an ocean, but other than that Rin seems too busy to waste his precious time with him.

Haruka tears his gaze off Rin and looks down at his glass. He knows he’s being childish; Rin owes him nothing and it’s definitely not his fault he likes parties more than Haruka does.

 _And it’s over_.

Haruka looks up again, but staring at Rin doesn’t make that voice stop reminding him what he already knows.

_It’s over._

_He owes you nothing for a past that made you both suffer._

It’s alright, because it’s true. But there are more painful truths Haruka doesn’t need to remember but does.

 _It won’t stop being over no matter how many times you fall in the trap_.

Haruka’s jaw tenses when a tall man’s ridiculously thick arm finds its way around Rin’s shoulders. He’s _big_ , bigger even than Sousuke, his blonde hair lighter than Nagisa’s, and even from his spot Haruka can tell Rin’s lazy smile freezes for a second. Haruka tries to fish that swimmer’s name from his memory, but all that comes to his mind is the fact that he got gold in the 400m backstroke.

Rin quickly recovers his composure; he says something to the swimmer and soon the two of them are laughing, their heads getting closer, and Haruka is suddenly scared he’s grabbing his glass too tightly and it’ll shatter between his hands.

It’s just natural, he thinks. Rin is like a little star, he attracts people and is liked by all of them without even trying. The backstroke swimmer is just the boldest of all the athletes, but there is a circle of at least ten people surrounding them and Rin is obviously enjoying the attention.

Haruka exhales slowly through his nose, sets the glass on the nearest table with a clank that would be loud if it weren’t for the damn music and turns ninety degrees to his right to leave. He definitely doesn’t want to see any of the scenarios his bitter mind is already picturing for him coming true.

The light in the hallway makes him tear up; it’s just normal, but after being stuck in a dim room for a while it’s almost too much. He rubs his eyes as he advances to get away from the party, from the noise, trying to focus on the long bath he’ll have when he gets to his hotel, to his room. The prospect isn’t as comforting as it should be, but it’s a good way to keep his jealousy under control.

 _He owes you nothing_ , the voice repeats, louder this time, and Haruka hates it, hates Rin, hates himself because it’s painfully true.

 _It’s over_ , he tells himself with each step.

It should be enough. _It_ being over, once and for all. They’ve already hurt each other enough.

But it _isn’t_ , because Haruka realises now he’s been subconsciously hoping for something he shouldn’t and acknowledging it makes him feel sick.

“Haru!”

_No._

_Please._

_Leave._

Of course, none of those words ever leaves Haruka’s lips. Of course, Rin doesn’t figure them out himself.

Haruka turns around, sees Rin approaching him in long strides. His hair is slightly dishevelled, cheeks pink and eyes bright. His black shirt has been lifted, a patch of hip showing beneath. Only his tight jeans remain untouched.

“What?”

Rin opens his mouth, closes it. Bites his lower lip as he scratches the back of his head and lowers his gaze, as if the words he seems to have forgotten laid on the floor.

“I just– I wanted to say, well–” He clears his throat, looks up. “Before, with Denis… He’s just really touchy-feely, it’s not–“

“I don’t care,” Haruka hisses. Rin is as obligated to give him explanation as Haruka is allowed to feel jealous. So he turns on his heels, yearning for his bath to forget everything about this evening.

“Haru.” And now Rin grabs his wrist, fingers sweaty and trembling.

When Haruka looks at Rin again, he doesn’t avoid his gaze.

“I said I don’t care.”

Rin swallows down.

“I wanted to congratulate you,” he clarifies, pointing at the medal resting on Haruka’s chest with his chin. “You left the stadium so quickly I didn’t have the time.”

“My coach wanted to talk to me,” Haruka replies, for the first time not spluttering words on auto-pilot. His wrist burns where Rin is grabbing it, but he can’t find it in him the will to tell him to draw back. “But I’m happy for you too.”

Rin takes a step closer to Haruka.

“I…” He breathes out. A million alarm bells start ringing in Haruka’s mind, all at once. “You know, these months I…”

_Don’t._

“I’ve really missed–”

_Shut up._

The thought only materialises in a growl as Haruka draws his arm back, bringing Rin closer too. Lips collide, noses bump into each other and Haruka drowns his guilt in the kiss as he feels utterly disgusted at himself.

Yet he can’t help but make a noise of protest when Rin pulls back.

“Don’t you w–”

“Not here,” Rin grumbles, tugging at Haruka’s forearm, still in his grip, for him to move.

 

 

 

 _Not again_ , is all Haruka can think when he pushes Rin into the nearest toilet room and they cling to the other to keep standing, barely able to keep their lips and hands off each other.

 _Not again_ , is all Haruka can think when they stumble into an empty cubicle, leaning into Rin as he hears the door closing behind him, medals jingling between their chests.

“Hey,” Rin breathes out as Haruka presses his back to the door to look at him, “are you sure you–”

 _Not again_ , Haruka thinks when he nods, when he kisses Rin to shut him up, when hands grab his hips and thumbs brush the skin right above the hem of his jeans tentatively.

_It’s over. This isn’t alright. It’ll just make things harder._

_It’s a mistake._

The voices are screaming now and only Rin’s touch can silence them; Haruka pulls him closer, fingers tangling in red hair; arches his back just enough for their crotches to grind together, drinks the noises escaping Rin’s lips. Slides his hands down Rin's abdomen, then up under his shirt, fingers curling when muscles tense beneath them; and as he kisses Rin’s jaw and plays with his nipples the way he knows he likes best –isn’t it strange, how Haruka’s body remembers Rin's ridiculously well after everything?– he tries to convince himself he has some semblance of control over any of _this_ the way he has Rin at his mercy, mouth hanging open in silent moans as Haruka sucks at his skin hard enough to leave a bruise and they keep growing harder against each other.

Until Rin manages to make a sound –a low, unarticulated snarl– and his teeth clamp down the juncture between Haruka’s neck and shoulder, and he then kisses it only to bite into that patch of skin again. His hands, however, don’t trail up, but down– and soon Haruka’s breathing is coming out in short exhales as his jeans are unbuttoned and fingers slip beneath his boxers, drawing circles that get increasingly close to the part of him that needs the most attention yet never quite reach it, tangling in dark, fuzzy hair instead.

Maybe it’s the last opportunity for Haruka to listen to the most logical part of him and stop this madness.

_It won't stop being over._

_Shut up, shut up, shut_ up––

Instead, Haruka wills his hands to move, to reach for Rin’s jeans. He doesn’t exactly complain when his first attempts at unbuttoning it end up with Rin briefly losing his balance and accidentally giving Haruka some of the friction he craves, but considers his eventual success as nothing short of a blessing, for the second his hand closes around Rin’s shaft he gets a bite strong enough to break his skin, a whimper reverberating through his bones.

And it’s wrong, and it’s a _mistake_ ; and Haruka doesn’t know what Rin has missed, but he can tell _this_ is not what he wants. He misses Rin, has missed him since their last year of high school ended, but getting each other off in some toilet far from Japan is not what he yearns for.

They should talk. Ending this madness, stopping hurting each other; that’s the correct thing to do.

If only Haruka weren’t so scared of losing Rin in every conceivable way, he would try harder.

It’s easier colliding whenever they meet abroad for a tournament, not putting their worries into words and losing themselves in each other’s warmth, as if he could ignore a different kind of cold that way. Sex, the same topic that once upon a time made Rin blush to the roots of his hair, that Haruka was only curious about, is now the safest way to avoid dealing with their feelings.

Even if it hurts like slicing his heart open afterwards.

Haruka gasps when Rin’s fingers finally curl around his cock, hips involuntarily bucking forward. Rin’s mouth comes back to his lips and Haruka tastes his own blood as his tongue caresses a row of sharp teeth. It’s hard, keeping focused on what he’s doing, but he manages to pull Rin’s jeans and underpants down just enough for him to keep going, slides his free hand to Rin's behind, glosses over the curve of his ass and slips his fingers between his buttocks, smiling when he finds what he was looking for and Rin drowns a moan in his mouth, giving Haruka’s shaft a more vehement tug.

Rin’s red, swollen lips leave his mouth once more, kissing and nibbling an agonisingly slow way down his neck. He slaps Haruka’s hand away from his cock and holds the two of them together, setting a rather irregular pace that sends waves of pleasure that turn Haruka's legs into jelly, and he’s grateful he’s trapped between Rin and the cubicle door, is grateful for Rin’s arm sneaking around his waist, holding him up; because he can’t even remember his own name, much less what he’s figured out he wants to do right now.

He notices he still has one hand hanging limply at his side and brings it up to his mouth, sucking at three fingers –index, middle and ring– even though he won’t need half of them. He then searches for the point his other hand is currently at, slips a finger in and winces and freezes at Rin’s hiss against his throat for some seconds, as if it were him the one dealing with the temporary discomfort.

“You can–” Rin chokes on his own breathing, but Haruka understands.

And a part of him wants to watch Rin come undone under his ministrations, but he can tell, even now, that the desire is mutual; and when Rin’s kisses become nibbles in haphazard patterns, when the hand holding their dicks together speeds up, he doesn’t know if it’s him or Rin the one who doesn’t try to suppress his moans anymore. Every now and then his finger reaches deeper, which prompts Rin to thrust forward to him before leaning back into his hand, disjointing their rhythm as Haruka predicted, never with the strength he expects.

Haruka is really envious of Rin’s strong legs. If it were up to him, they would have reached the floor long ago.

The irregular pace, Rin’s increasingly strong bites– Haruka doesn’t know what it is that sends him over the edge. He can only seek their cocks with his free hand and tug at them along with Rin's, finger burrowing deeper in Rin because he doesn’t have the slightest intention of letting him win.

It’s a close tie. It’s also a mess, which is incidentally the state their shirts end up in; and under different circumstances Haruka would claim he lasted longer, if only for listening to Rin’s retort.

But the current circumstances are the following: they broke up, they owe nothing to each other and they just had sex in a tiny toilet cubicle abroad and it’s all sorts of messed up and Haruka remembers now how big of a mistake it has been, remembers how they’ve been falling into the trap since their first tournament together.

So he just regains his breath between the body slumped against his and the door, feeling Rin’s shaky exhales on his shoulder as he wonders if he's tired from keeping them both standing.

He’s really, _really_ envious of the way Rin’s legs manage to keep supporting their combined weight.

Haruka wants to kiss Rin’s temple, to hug him close– but he can’t, because _it’s over_ and it won’t stop being over no matter how many times they do this and Haruka dies a little. So he lifts his hand and absent-mindedly brushes one of the bite wounds on his shoulder after realising that combing Rin's hair is also something he shouldn't do.

“Sorry about that,” Rin mumbles, and it’s only then that Haruka realises it’s his temple what Rin is leaning on his shoulder. He knows Haruka doesn’t like marks– or rather, he doesn’t mind, but hates it when people ask him about them at practice.

“It’s fine,” Haruka mumbles; but it’s not, and being interrogated by his teammates is the last of his concerns.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Haruka gets out of the bathtub the sky has gone from black to deep purple.

Oddly enough, he’s not tired. He supposes he’ll spend the flight back home sleeping, but exhaustion hasn’t caught up with him yet and he still feels alright.

Well, that’s not true.

Haruka stands before the bathroom mirror for a long time after drying himself. He didn’t mean to, he just– couldn’t _not_ look at the bite marks, at the purple splotches Rin has left all over his shoulders and neck and are only starting to flourish. He’s fairly certain he’s left marks on Rin too; but right now he couldn’t care less. He’s going to sport those for some days, to be reminded of the minutes spent with Rin in that limbo where for a second nothing else mattered.

Only now it does.

Haruka knows what comes next. A week without hearing about Rin, then weekly video calls where they’ll talk about practise, about how land training sucks, about times. Stupid conversations instead of talking about how _this_ is killing them both slowly, and late at night he’ll play around with the idea that maybe Rin avoids the topic because he’s not only blind to the way Haruka is hopelessly wrapped around his little finger, but also foolishly scared of completely lose Haruka, too.

Haruka’s stomach lurches at the prospect, bile surging up to his mouth and making the world taste bitter until he swallows it back down. It’s not the sex, the cold, the purposeful obliviousness they have gotten too good at. Nothing about _this_ is right; it’s sick and twisted and everything Haruka doesn’t want his relationship with Rin to be. All because he’s too coward to face reality and just talk it out.

He lightly touches the deepest bite wound, the first one he has received. It doesn't hurt, but Haruka wishes it did, just a bit.

He’s tired of running away.

The next time he sees Rin, he swears, he won’t panic and give in to the easy way out. He’ll keep his hands to himself, he’ll only use his mouth to speak. Because otherwise the pain will either kill him or isolate him in that tiny, safe bubble where a grumpy boy still believes he’s better off being there by himself, content with simply _surviving_.

The next time, the next time.

Part of Haruka is resigned to the next time being exactly like every other time during the last months. Part of him is terrified there won’t be a next time after then.

But really, what every inch of Haruka wishes for is having Rin back with him.

All of Rin.

Because if it’s not everything, Haruka can only give him sex.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're going to throw rocks at me, please, throw little ones. They'll hurt less.


End file.
